


In the Spirit of Being

by Jiffers



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:56:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiffers/pseuds/Jiffers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyria is a Dalish mage in the Fereldren Circle.  Irving meets with Duncan before her harrowing to request the Warden conscript her as he fears Greagoir will be threatened by her magic and will make her tranquil.</p><p>And because my mind always thinks there should be more to a story....</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Spirit of Being

Irving sat back in his chair and looked at Duncan over the cluttered expanse of his desk. His eyes met those of the Grey Warden and for once, he was the one to look away. He fiddled with a quill, then started to shuffle a stack of papers. Duncan watched the First Enchanter in silence for a long moment then leaned across the desk and placed his hand over Irving's. The older man stilled and then gave a long sigh. His lined eyes studied the paper on top and Duncan realized with a bit of shock how aged his old friend had grown since he had seen him last. With a mirthless chuckle, Irving picked up the quill again and twisted it between his fingers. They both watched the motion of the feather as the silence grew. Finally Irving tossed it down and started to speak. 

"I need your help, Duncan. I need you to conscript someone." He held up a wrinkled hand to stall anything Duncan might have said. "In truth, I'm doing you a bigger favor than you're doing me by agreeing." His hand unconsciously sought the quill again as his voice trailed off. 

Duncan sat back in his chair in puzzlement. In the decade he had known the First Enchanter, he had never seen him at such a loss of words. His thick eyebrows drew down over hooded brown eyes as he considered the man across from him. "This must be serious indeed if you consider being a Warden better than what waits for this mage in the circle," he interjected. 

Irving sighed and tossed the quill aside. He pushed his chair back and the legs grated over the stone floor. "You have no idea how much this pains me," he said softly. He stood and walked over to a bookcase in the corner of a room. Duncan shifted in his seat and braced an arm on the desk watching his progress. The mage ran his long fingers over the spines of the books then selected a thin volume and pulled it out. His robe swished across the floor as he resumed his seat. "I need your word that this information stays between us." He folded his hands and rested them on top of the book. Both men studied the ancient looking bundle of parchment - Duncan curiously and Irving with a pained expression. 

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning," the Enchanter mused tapping the book. "Before I bring this mystery into the story. But first... Cullen!" He raised his voice and called out in the direction of the door. 

A young templar stuck his head into the room, an inquisitive look on his face. "Yes, Senior Enchanter?"

"Would you be so kind as to ask Lyria to join us for a moment?" the elder mage requested. "I need to give her final counsel before her Harrowing tonight. You can probably find her in the library or perhaps sneaking cake into Anders." He winked at the younger man who blushed before crossing his arms and bowing in agreement. The templar slipped back into the hallway and Irving relaxed into his chair. 

"Was that wise?" Duncan asked gazing across the table. "You gave that man some power over your mage with that information."

Irving gave a soft chuckle. "That boy is one of the good ones. Besides, Lyria has him so twisted around her little finger he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. She has all of us in her spell, Duncan." His tone grew grave. "That's why I need you to take her out of here. She's not meant for life in the Circle. Even Greagoir seems to relax around her and that scares him. He thinks she's enchanting him and his templars - wants to cry blood magic. But it's just who she is... I don't want to see her made tranquil because some rusty old man can't handle her light." 

A spark of outrage lit his eyes and Duncan laughed at the definition of the Knight Commander as a rusty old man. Over the decade he and Irving had been friends, he had gotten to known Greagoir as well. The man was a taciturn example of Chantry law - unyielding in his belief that mages were one step away from destroying the world. "That this young mage has proven the man has a soft spot in his heart is a major win for her indeed," he agreed solemnly. "However, I would like to know more about how she has charmed this many in the tower - you included."

The conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Irving looked up and smiled as a slight figure slipped into the room. He caught Duncan's eye and gave a negative shake of his head before sliding the book under a sheaf of paper as he stood. The Warden lifted an eyebrow in query and turned to meet the object of their discussion. 

A young elf stood in front of them, hands clasped in front of her and eyes downcast. Long blonde hair fell over her shoulders and her blue apprentice robes hung loosely on her small frame. She gave the impression of delicate subservience and Duncan wondered how someone so frail seeming had impressed one as powerful as Irving. He cleared his throat slightly and she looked up. The depth and brilliance of her gaze took his breath away and he had his answer. Her eyes swirled with magic and the hair on his arms stood on end. His knees felt weak and he reached behind him for the chair. Irving laughed and the spell was broken. 

"What in the Maker?" He asked Irving casting a sweeping look from the elven apprentice to the Senior Enchanter. 

She bowed her head again and bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I forget that people here are used to my magic. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Child," Duncan stepped forward and tilted her chin back up. "You have nothing to apologize for. The fault is mine. I was simple unprepared for such raw talent." She smiled and he felt like the sun had broken through on a cloudy day. "I find myself no longer questioning such devotion," he directed at Irving. He stepped back with a half bow and gestured towards the desk. 

Lyria gathered her robes in her hand and stepped closer to Irving. He smiled kindly at her and indicated Duncan. "Child, I'd like you to meet Duncan. He's a Grey Warden who is here at the Circle to recruit mages to serve in King Callen's army." She dipped a quick curtsy and small grin in the Warden's direction, then turned to Irving again. "I brought you here to wish you luck with your Harrowing. You'll be going before Greagoir and the templars tonight. You've earned this, child. I think you'll do well." 

She drew a breath and her hands tightened in the folds of her skirt. Her chin went up and she looked across the desk at her mentor. "I'm ready, Ser. I hope to make you proud. What do you need me to do to prepare?" 

Irving stepped around the desk. He drew her into a gentle embrace and stroked her hair. "You have always made me proud, child. I expect nothing less but your best." He held her for a minute and Duncan was surprised to see tears fill his eyes. "Now," his tone turned brisk and he released her. "Go rest before tonight. I'm sure Jowan is looking for you. I don't need to remind you that this is not to be discussed with him or anyone for that matter." She nodded her agreement and turned to leave the room.

"I look forward to seeing you after your Harrowing," Duncan told her, nodding his head graciously. She dipped her head and gave him another smile as she left the room. Duncan grasped for his chair and sat down heavily. He rested his arms on the desk and tented his head in his hands. Irving laughed and resumed his seat across from him. 

Duncan shot him a look through linked fingers and shook his head. "Andraste's knees," he said. "You could have given me a little warning." 

"And ruin my fun," Irving chuckled. "Have you seen such immense power? I think in all my years, Wynn is the closest in ability. And even she's in awe." He picked up the quill again and drew it idly across the desk. "Now you see why I need her out of here. That much potential for good... She's a healer, Duncan. A spirit mage like I've never seen before. If she stays here, Greagoir isn't going to let her keep that degree of power. I can't let her be made tranquil." He dropped the feather and slid the book out from under its hiding place. "This supports my fear... and my hopes for her. Thank you for agreeing to come. I'll have Cullen show you to your room. Please take this and read it tonight. If her harrowing goes as I think it will, I'll meet you here in the morning. We will have much to discuss." 

He stood and reached a hand out. Duncan clasped it between his own. "I'll be here," he vowed. Dropping the enchanter's grasp, he picked the book up and tucked it into the sash at his waist. Walking towards the door, he paused and turned back to the mage. "I promise you this, Irving. I will consider seriously what you are asking of me. However, I'll need to know more about her before I make a decision." The enchanter nodded and Duncan opened the heavy wooden door. 

The young templar snapped to attention and Duncan requested to be shown to his room. As their footsteps echoed down the stone hallway, the Warden pondered the experience. It was certainly going to be a long night.


End file.
